


Bury the Thought of Your Face

by ExTeenageDirtbag



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slice of Life, Small Towns, Suicidal Ideation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:11:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExTeenageDirtbag/pseuds/ExTeenageDirtbag
Summary: She never planed for this, never asked for it. Certainly never wanted it. Now here they are, miles from where they started and still just as lost.It's not her job to wipe away his tears but she will. It's not his job to hold her when things crash around her but he will.The two days Stewart spends at Katy's takes a slightly different turn.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> The actual story is set at the beginning of season 2 and will diverge from there. Not a pretty story, heed the tags. Stewart is a drug addict and will be written as such. Katy is not a saint and will be written as such. Also, very said there's not more fics about this show. Imma need someone do get on that asap.  
> Also also I'm not Canadian so there won't be as many pop culture references as in the show, although this one isn't very dialog heavy.

**_Katy_ **

It’s not her job to save anyone. 

It never has been.

 

She’s got her own shit to accomplish without the hassle of dragging around someone else’s dead weight.

 

That doesn’t stop her from wanting to though.

 

She stares at Stewart’s listless form as he slumps against the railing of the clinic’s stoop and for a moment she can’t wrap her head around the difference between the man sitting beside her and the boy she’d grown up being pleasantly charmed by. And maybe charmed isn’t even the right word for it.

 

She had definitely been drawn in by the absolute ragers he’d thrown but his peculiar mannerisms and creativity were what kept her coming back. Not that he’d ever paid her any mind back then, no one had. She flew under everyone’s radar, the skinny, boobless, country girl with a farmers tan and an average face. It was almost funny that he’d never even suspected her even though he’d eyed her exiting his room on more than one occasion. 

 

The mixtapes she’d stolen from his room, a concrete basement covered in band posters and video game cartridges, were still stashed away in a dark and dusty corner at the bottom of her closet. She knew she’d never get rid of them, they were a treasure from a time when her life had, to a point, been so much simpler. When their parents had still been around, before Wayne had meet Hurricane Angie, before Reilly and Jonsey.

 

She remembers staying up till the sun painted the sky with beautiful shades of oranges, pinks, and purples; listening to the heart wrenching tones of a boy she had already known was losing himself to something dark and dangerous long before the first time he came to school so fucked out of his head that he got into a screaming match with no one in the middle of the hallway and talked to himself the whole way through their algebra lesson.

 

She casts one last glance Stewart as she hefts Dary up the last two steps and into the clinic. He’s looking at her feet like his brain isn’t quite processing what she just told him,  _ he’d charmed her _ , and maybe it isn’t. She’s never done meth and never will but she’s seen the Skids dust-fucked sideways enough times to know she probably could have been speaking Manderin and he’d have understood just as well.

 

At least that’s what she’d thought, but now she’s not so sure. 

 

They’re all sitting in the bar after the fight with Tanis’ crew, she has to take the whiskey bottle from Reilly and the blonde gives her an almost indignant look before she promptly takes a swig of her own and turns her whole body to face the goth boy beside her and offers the whiskey to him, amber liquid sloshing in the bottle as he takes it from her hands. The expression on his face is… she’s not really sure what to call it; his face is relaxed and open and it’s so different than the usual expression of anxious mania she normally sees. 

 

_ Cute. _ Her brain supplies before she can stop it and her eyes trail over him as he looks over at whoever is speaking and that thought immediately turns to ash on her tongue.

 

His hair is greasy and unwashed, hanging loosely around his pale face in chunks and he’s got blood crusted around and under his nose where someone rocked him good it looks like. His eyes are red rimmed and bright, pupils so shrunken even in the darkened bar they look like the sky on a mid morning lay about.

 

His clothes are still askew and covered in as much dirt as the rest of him, he keeps alternating between pulling the sleeves of his jacket down over his bloodied knuckles and shoving them up to bunch around his elbows. She can see the scabs on his arms and hands as he does, a matching set to the ones on his neck.

 

No, he’s not cute. He’s a disaster. A tweaker. 

_ Nothing but spare parts. _

 

And almost like he heard her thoughts she watches out of the corner of her eye as he seems to hunch in on himself, thin shoulders bowing inwards as he tries to make himself smaller. Devon dips his head down to whisper something to him, places a hand on the other boys back. It does nothing but make him more agitated and as she’s about to ask what their deal was, Dollar Store Vin Diesel came in looking for a fight. 

 

She watches Wayne stand and the two make their way to the back door. Turns her attention back to the Skids only to find they aren’t sitting next to her anymore. She frowns and Jonsey calls out to her but she ignores him, getting up and walking out the front door to see Stewart backed against the brick wall of the bar while digging through Devon’s pockets as the taller boy tried to talk to him. 

 

“Fuck are yous doing?” She asks, voice sharp, Devon looks over to glare at her and hiss threateningly while Stewart flinches back so hard he slams his head into the wall behind him. Clumsy fuck.

 

“ _ This _ has nothing to do with  _ you!  _ **_Back off.”_ ** The taller boy growls while throwing his arm out dramatically, pointing two fingers at her and Stewart resumes rummaging through his pockets.

 

“Well I’s says it does. Stewart!” 

That grabs his attention and he clenches the bag of white powder in his fist as his wild eyes lock onto her questioningly. 

“Put that shit down and I’ll let you take me out on Saturday.” She walks and runs her hand over the hood of his jacket, eyes staring into his as he searches her face for any sign of a lie.

 

He nods when he finds none and the baggie drops to the ground between his feet.

 

“Good boy. Pick me up at noon ok?” And she spins on her heal, strutting back into the bar to have a drink and check the damage Wayne’s caused.

* * *

 

**Stewart**

They make it back to the basement just in time for him to heave up the whiskey they’d drank at the bar. He nearly falls into the bushes next to the side door but Devon has a solid grip on the back of his hoodie and shirt. Bracing his hands on his knees as he feels the world tilt around he wonders what the fuck he’d been thinking. 

 

He needed a fucking hit, but he also needed a date with Katy, a chance to show her that he could make her happy, unlike those stupid puck humpers. 

 

He feels Devon’s grip on his collar shift and he coughs as more alcohol and stomach acid force it’s way up and out. “Fuck…” Is all he can come up with and his hand finds the doorknob, twisting it and falling inside when the other man lets go of him. 

 

He hears Devon mumble something but he can’t hear over the music that’s thumping through the small room. The others aren't even there and he’s annoyed that they left all this shit on but in the same moment forgets what he’s even mad about as Devon hauls him off the floor like some rag doll (and maybe he is one, he sure fucking feels like it right now) to throw him onto the shitty pull out couch. He lands on the side that has a spring poking out and feels it scratch him through his shirt and he winces as the pain is magnified by his lack of mood enhancers. 

 

He pushes himself to the other side and the second his back settles on the cheap mattress Devon is crawling over him to perch on his hips. He grits his teeth as the short haired man makes himself comfortable, places his hand on Devon’s thigh though he knows he wouldn’t be able to push the other man off even if he wasn’t halfway to sobering up. Devon leans down, looking totally fucked out if his head and Stewart's s back arches as the taller man presses against him. 

 

He can’t stand to have people touching him when he’s coming down, every sensation is amplified to an almost unbearable degree and he  _ knows _ Devon wants to fuck him, knows he loves the noises Stewart makes when everything is so intense and too sensitive but tonight he just  _ can't.  _ Not with everything that's happened today and all the shit going on in his head. 

 

They never do this when they’re sober and sometimes he wonders what that means. More so what it means that they are always smacked out and therefore fuck often. 

 

Teeth nip at his neck and his back arches more, fingers coming to clench at the back of Devon’s shirt. The sensation is sharp and hot even though he knows the other man is being gentle and he lets out a breathless whine. Between the mouth nipping and kissing at his neck and the pressure against his hips he thinks he might pass out, he pushes against Devon’s chest. 

 

Everything is too close, too hot, and his head is spinning, throbbing. 

 

Suddenly the weight is gone and he feels like he can breathe, there are hands cupping his face and shaking him slightly. His eyes finally focus on his friend who is hovering over him and brushing his thumbs across his cheeks. 

 

“Just sleep man, you’ll be ok in the morning.” Comes the deep voice and so he does. He closes his eyes and falls asleep with his friend pressed against his side, Devon tucks Stewart’s head into the crook of his neck and throws his own arm over the smaller boy’s chest.

 

They lay like that for approximately three hours before Stewart shoots up and leans over the side of the mattress to dry heave, the noise loud and grating in the otherwise silent room. 

 

Devon lays there and listens to his friend try to throw up his own intestines, side feeling cool where the other man had been pressed against him. He sits up tiredly and places a hand between Stewart's shoulder blades, idly noticing that the fucker has sweated through his shirt  _ and _ his fucking hoodie. 

 

The hacking stops after a moment and Stewart flops bonelessly back against the mattress. 

 

He looks like absolute shit. 

 

He tells him this. 

 

"Fuck  _ off."  _ His friend hisses before tugging his jacket off and throwing it across the room. His black shirt is soaked with sweat and sticks to his small body. 

 

"You're withdrawing. For what?  _ Katy _ ? Haven't you spent long enough being miserable because of her?" He says snottily, rolling off the shitty mattress to grab a pipe off the side table and make his way to the cooking station. 

 

Stewart ignores him, listens to the click and fizz of a lighter, the room filling with a smell like ozone and burning plastic. Listens to Devon exhale a lungful of smoke. 

 

"What will she ever do for you Stewart?" 

 

_ Make me happy…?  _

 

It's the only thing that comes to mind and before he falls back into a fitful sleep. 

* * *

 

**Katy**

 

The next three days are relatively uneventful. There's a wreck down near the post office and everyone gets a show finding out old man Braxton doesn't wear pants or underwears on his early morning drives around town when they have to cart him off to the clinic for a sprained ankle and some stitches. 

 

Saturday morning rolls around and Katy stands in front of the mirror in her room, making sure her hair isn't frizzing too much before she glances out the window to see a green Acura parked at the end of the lane way and a head of dark hair bobbing around. 

 

Jogging down the stairs she skips outside to see the look of disapproval on Wayne's face as she walks up to Stewart and pulls him towards the car, smacking his hand away when he tries to touch her ass. He at least holds the door open for her so maybe there's some hope for him. 

 

The drive to the Skid's place is anything but uneventful. Stewart talks a mile a minute, a nervous tick from what she's gathered, and it's about shit she has no interest in. Video games and the like. But she lets him ramble as he pleases. Uses the time to study him. 

 

He's dressed much differently than she's ever seen him dress. Even the first time she'd met him he'd looked like some wannabe Gerard Way, but now here he sits in a white t-shirt of all fucking things. And the scarf, God. The jeans he's wearing are a light wash and slightly baggy. He still hasn't washed his hair though, just tossed a beanie over it and called it a fuckin day. 

 

It's not a  _ bad _ look at all. But it's not  _ his _ look and Katy doesn't know how she feels about it. 

 

What she likes though is the clarity in his eyes. They aren't red rimmed and bloodshot, clouded by a haze of drugs. He's focused and not jumping from one topic to another like a Ritalin fueled soccer mom. 

 

She reaches over and places her hand over his on the gear shift and she can almost hear his heart stop beating. He glances down at their hands then up at her. She knows he's about to lean in for a kiss and turns her head just in time for his lips to land on her cheek. 

 

He makes a nose of disappointment in the back of his throat and she rolls her eyes before climbing out of the car. 

 

As it turns out Devon and Roald were some catty bitches if she'd even seen any. Which is unfortunate because she knows Stewart cares about them in his own way. She can tell it's bothering him while they are at the concert. But he doesn't bring it up so neither does she. It's not her business and she's not about to get in the middle of something. 

 

Until she has to. 

 

That Monday, Stewart shows up at her house and tells them he's homeless. Wayne asks how that's got to do fuck all with them. 

 

And Katy is inclined to agree. 

 

Until she sees the look on Stewart's face. That expression that reminds her of a lost puppy and damnit, he  _ has _ been trying. He's clean. So what can it hurt to let him stay for a couple of days? She knows that disgusting basement is the only home he's had for years. 

 

So she tells him he's got 48 hours to sort himself and he agrees. 

 

And that's how the whole clusterfuck begins, with her dragging this boy into her home.


	2. I Don't Belong Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got done with season 2 so if the boxer dog they have has a name idk what it is yet. Also I'm not trying to make Katy a bitch, she just knows what she wants. Leave comments plz I love that shit and just so you guys know I didn't proof read it so sorry about any mistakes I'll come back at edit things eventually

She drags Stewart upstairs to the spare bedroom that is situated across from her own and beside the bathroom.

 

It's modest, containing nothing more than a full sized bed, night table, and a dresser. There are a few odds and ends scattered across the surface of the dresser (they'd taken to using it as a temporary storage room since they so rarely had company).

She turns to face her companion, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes wander over the boy standing in front of her as he shuffles back and forth nervously, his small bag of belongings still in his hands.

 

He meets her gaze and holds it, unblinking.

 

_Creep._

 

"Put your shit down ya skirt. What happened? Did you and Devey boy have a little lovers spat?" She keeps her tone causal but the underlying teasing tone has Stewart's face contorting into some over exaggerated frown and a light blush dusts his cheeks.

 

"No, it was not," he states in a clipped tone and drops his bag by the door to make some elaborate hand gesture "We've mutually agreed to no longer consort with each other for the foreseeable future."

He finally breaks eye contact with her to look just to the side of where she's sitting, hand in a loose fist near his face and his fingers twitch, like he wants to continue but doesn't.

 

His arms drop and he plays with the hem of his shirt, suddenly looking uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze. She watches as he pulls on the edges of the loose cotton, admiring his long, thin fingers, the short nails painted with chipped black polish.

 

Wonders what those fingertips would feel like brushing over her thighs.

 

_Absolutely not_

Her brain says, sounding oddly like Wayne.

 

No, she was not going to even think about nailing Stewart of all people, no matter how mad she was at Jonesy and Reilly. Wouldn't even entertain the thought. He may have cleaned up his act but he-

 

"Katy?" Came that soft voice, snapping her out of her thoughts and she stands suddenly, enough that the boy in front of her takes an involuntary step back, squeaking in surprise.

 

She puts on a small smile and grabs his arm, rubbing her thumb over the soft warm skin of his wrist as she pulls him back downstairs.

 

"Well, good to hear. Those idiots weren't doing you any kind of good."

She hears him murmur in agreement before they walk out onto the back porch and she watches as the boys play a game of catch in the yard.

 

She feels Stewart shift closer to her and she cocks her hip out, leans forward on the railing before looking back at him, her brown hair flying everywhere in the wind.

 

"We still got chorin' to do and you gotta earn your stay, but I'll help you out if you've got something for me."

 

Stewart's eyes nearly bug out of his head, glancing at her arched back and nearly exposed ass before she flicks her lighter in his general direction, and causing him to laugh nervously. "Heh oh right, yes, of course I have pot, what do you take me for?"  

He shoves his hand into the back pocket of his loose jeans and pulls out a pack of smokes. He pops the cover of the cheap cardboard container to pull out a joint hidden with the tobacco and hands it to her before pulling a dart out for himself.

 

"Those things are bad for you, you know." She comments off handedly as she takes a long pull from the roll between her fingers. For one heart stopping moment Katy wonders if it was laced with anything, considering who she got it from but the bubble of anxiety quickly deflates. Stewart wouldn't do that to her.

 

He copies her stance and props his elbows against the wood railing, leaning down so he's level with her but keeps his eyes on her brother, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he takes occasional drags from it. "Everything is bad for you. Might as well enjoy some of it."

 

She rolls her eyes at his cryptic answer, he probably thinks he's being edgy but it's just coming across as awkward. Like him. Awkward and out of place.

 

Stewart suddenly ducks and she hears something crack against the side of the house behind them before the sound of a baseball rolling across the floorboards meets her ears.

 

"Fix yer eyes bud." Wayne says as he stares at Stewart's hunched form. "A ladies _assets_ isn't meant to be ogled as such."

 

Of course the little rat had been staring down her shirt. Well, it was a tank top so it was more of just an open ogling probably but he'd done it where Wayne could see so it was his fault.

 

"Fuck you, I wasn't staring at her b-"

 

"Now now let's not start with that." Squirrelly Dan cuts him off, she can tell he's trying to defuse the situation before her brother bashes Stewart's face in for even thinking about her boobs.

 

Deciding to be gracious, she pulls the short boy up by his jacket sleeve and pushes him towards the house. "Got chorin'. Make sure yous go to the market before they close or you'll be eating stale bread for supper."

 

"Yes ma'am miss Katy!" Dan yells at her retreating back and she smiles sweetly.

 

She closes the screen door behind her and nearly runs face first into Stewart who hasn't moved from where she'd shoved him inside.

She tries to take a step back but her shoe gets caught on the raised metal lip at the bottom of the door and she ends up falling _forward,_ crashing into him anyway.

 

Katy is surprised when he actually catches her, arms coming up to brace her slim hips in a steady grip. Even more surprised when her face ends up tucked over his shoulder to find that he smells like vanilla and tobacco.

 

His thumbs brush over the bare skin just above where her shorts lay and he stands stock still while she gathers herself, places her hand on his chest to push back and away.

 

"Uh, thanks. Sorry." She murmurs as her brain tries to work itself around the fact that she'd _enjoyed_ the contact.

 

Stewart looks over the fucking moon, eyes bright and he's got that dopey looking smile on his face, showing off teeth that are unbelievably nice for someone who's spent the last 7 years smoking meth.

" _Any_ -time, Katy." He says softly and his eyes fall to her lips.

 

He leans in a little.

 

"That wasn't an invitation." She snaps, turning her head and Stewart freezes in his tracks, staring at her with those impossibly blue eyes.

 

The light fades from his face almost like a dimmer switch and it makes her uncomfortable suddenly. He frowns and she watches the confused expression cloud his eyes as he pulls his hands away, brings his arms up between them to pick at the polish on his nails.

 

He lets out a hesitant laugh and clears his throat as his eyes flicker over her face. "I must admit I'm a bit, ah, confused here. Maybe I'm mistaken but was the invitation not implied when we started _dating_?"

She can tell he's unsure of himself by the way his voice changes pitch throughout his statement.

 

The brunette nearly scoffs but holds it back. He's never played these kinds of games before so she can't really knock him for not knowing the rules.

 

"It wasn't. If I want you to touch me or kiss me, I'll let you know. Until then, hands to yourself." She gives him a terse smile before walking around him and into the kitchen.

 

She hears him follow her quickly and she tosses a sponge over her shoulder.

"We're cleaning the whole house top to bottom. Get to scrubbing."

* * *

 

Stewart wonders if he'd done something to anger her. As far as he knew he hadn't done anything out of the way or that she'd outwardly opposed.

 

She'd told him they were dating and she'd let him hold her hand at The Weekend concert so he'd (maybe incorrectly?) assumed he could kiss her as well. That was what couples did after all, wasn't it?

 

He's unsure now and as he tosses a final bag of trash into the can at the end of the lane way he wonders what else he doesn't know.

 

The sun has set and a small motion light illuminates the gravel walkway in front of him as he wanders back towards the house, hands shoved as deeply into his pockets as they'll go. It's not really cold out even at night this time of year but he's been freezing all damn day, even while Katy had him working like a dog scrubbing floors and counters.

 

As he walks around the back to the house a growl from the top step of the porch makes him freeze. It's deep, threatening and as his eyes make out the black shape in the dark he feels his throat close around a whimper trying to work its way out.

 

Stormy has her eyes trained on him from her position at the top of the stairs, thick fur tuffed up along her back in warning and lips pulled back to display sharp fangs shining in the light from the moon.

 

She takes a step forward when he doesn't move, her pointy claws making small tapping noises against the wood porch.

 

He wonders if this is how he's going to die. With his throat ripped out by the dog of the girl he's loved since they were teenagers.

 

Stormy barks and it's a deep, sharp, grating noise; he feels his vision tunnel and his heart beats loudly in his ears. Braces himself when he sees her adjust her back feet in preparation to lunge at him. And then there's a voice calling her name and Stormy backs off, just as Katy appears at the back door with a wooden spoon in her hand.

 

"Stormy! Down, Stewart isn't food. Go find some rabbits girl."

The shepherd whines before scrabbling down the stairs and off into the field.

 

Stewart feels his heart slowly start to calm down, Katy's voice a balm over his frazzled nerves

 

"Forgot to let her know you were here, she won't bother you again." The girl says with an unreadable expression on her face as she pushes the door open for him and he looks at the golden angel haloed by the light of the room behind her, he finds that he feels distinctly _unwelcome_ here.

 

Following her inside the small laundry room and closing the door behind him he takes a breath before leaning against the dryer, watching her continue through the room and into the connected kitchen to finish whatever it is she was doing.

 

He hears Wayne and Daryl conversing, something about McMurray and the town hall.

 

He finds himself leaning more against the metal box under him as he listens to them talk, boisterous and easy and it makes something in him twist uncomfortably.

 

Taking a deep breath he walks by all of them quickly to run up the stairs and into the room he's been placed in. He closes the door behind him and sits on the bed while letting his head fall into his hands. Lets out a deep sigh.

 

It feels like all the energy has been drained out of him and he wants nothing more than to sleep and pretend this whole day never happened. Forget all the shit with Devon casting him out of his own crew, all the taunting from Wayne and those other hicks, from the look Katy had given him a few moments ago. The way she had flinched against him after he'd caught her when she fell.

 

The way she'd told him not to touch her.

 

It makes his head spin thinking about all of her mixed signals and the near blatant rejection from earlier.

 

He's not good with emotion and reading other people when it isn't something to do with dealing. He can't wrap his head around the motivations of people who aren't hooked body, mind, and soul to illegal substances.

 

Falling back on the bed and closing his eyes the man tries to quell the urge to go out and find a fucking fix. It would solve so many of his problems right now, but would destroy any chance he had with Katy.

So he can't.

He has to stay perfectly and painfully _sober._

 

His fingers twist in the fabric of his jeans and he wills himself to ignore need to get so fucked up he can't remember what day it is or what his name is, what _Katy's_ name is.

 

To just float in the Purgatory of reality and dreams where it doesn't matter that no one likes him, that he's an ugly little fuck, that his parents want nothing to do with him, that he's broke, homeless, a worthless piece of shit.

 

Stewart lays there and lets his train of thought spiral until he's curled up on the bed with tears streaming down his face and trying to come up with a reason to not fling himself out the window.

The only reason he can muster up is that Katy would hate the mess it would make.

 

His phone buzzes and it scares the absolute fuck out of him, the loud chirp from his pocket ringing out it the small room.

 

Digging the small device out of his jacket and tapping the power button he sees a text from Katy.

 

_Are you going to join us or be an antisocial Annie?_

 

He sighs and and unlocks the screen to reply even though for the first time in his life he wants to ignore her.

 

**No. Also, that's not what antisocial means.**

 

He doesn't even have time to lock his screen before she replies.

 

_Fascinating. I don't want to hear you complaining about being hungry later._

 

**You won't.**

 

He closes his messaging app and his finger hovers over the Facebook icon before he thinks better of it and lets the phone flop screen down on the duvet.

 

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling fan for what feels like hours listening to the sounds in the house. Eventually he hears Katy walk up the stairs and into her room. Wayne follows suit a few minutes later and after listening to them get ready for bed for a while they finally settle.

 

The house is deathly quiet.

 

He hates it.

* * *

 

When Katy wakes up the next morning she follows her usual routine of showering, getting dressed and made up before skipping downstairs to start breakfast. Dary is already sat at the table next to her brother and the two are continuing their rambling about McMurry and his council of idiots.

 

She only half pays attention as she cooks a batch of pancakes and sets them on the table and snatches Daryl's yogurt cup as he tries to scrape a hole in the bottom of it.

 

He makes a face at her before grabbing a plate and a couple of pancakes while Wayne side eyes her. "So where's Marilyn Manson this fine morning?" He quips and Wayne snorts but continues to pet the dog in his lap.

 

"Oh lay off, I'm not his keeper." She shoves a piece of food in her mouth before looking between them.

 

Kissing the side of the Millie's head Wayne lets her down from his lap and she wanders off to do whatever dogs do. "A bit of a lie-in is fine but it's nearly half past 7. Shouldn't sleep the whole day away."

 

Dary nods in agreement and she finally rolls her eyes and puts her fork down. "You two want me to get his clothes and a bottle ready after I check on him too?"

That earns a little laugh from Daryl but Wayne is stone faced like always and she goes back to her 'cakes.

 

They continue to talk and eventually 8:15 rolls around but there is still no sign of Stewart, which doesn't surprise her much, she didn't peg him as a morning person anyway.

 

She cleans the dishes and places them on they drying rack before making her way upstairs to knock on the door of his room only to pause when she sees its slightly ajar.

 

Walking over while avoiding any squeaky floorboards she taps her knuckles against the wood door a few times but receives no response.

 

Placing her hand on the knob, the girl can hear soft snores coming from inside so she knows he isn't dead. Pushing on the polished wood and walking into the room Katy feels something strange at the sight in front of her.

 

Stewart is still fully dressed, laying sprawled across the bed with his booted feet hanging off the side as though he'd sat on the edge before simply flopping back and falling asleep then and there. 

 

Dark hair is fanned out around his head and contrasts sharply with his pale skin and for a second she wonders what he would look like with his hair pulled back. His shockingly long lashes rest against his high cheekbones like a swipe of paint across a blank canvas. 

 

The normally pink lips are parted and bloodless, nearly blending into the rest of his skin except for the small spots she can see he's bitten raw. His head is tilted back to expose a pale throat and his jacket is unzipped, the shirt underneath it riding up his slim torso and jeans riding low enough that it gives her a perfect view of his flat stomach and sharp hip bones. 

 

And she's having another moment where she wants to call him  _ pretty.  _

 

It makes her brain short circuit because this is  _ Stewart,  _ he isn't pretty, he isn't cute, and he's certainly not charming anymore. 

 

He's a rebound. A placeholder. 

Nothing more. 

 

She walks closer to him, stands between his parted legs and places her hands on the top of his thighs. Trails slender fingers up and has to stop herself from digging her thumbs into the hollows of his hips, lets them dip just  _ slightly  _ under the gap between his stomach and boxers. 

 

His eyes flutter and a small sigh escapes his parted lips. 

 

The skin is soft beneath her fingers and she slides one hand up to follow the curve of his torso until her index finger rests at the arch of his rib cage. 

 

His arm shifts and she pulls away like he's made of fire, breath catching in her throat and wonders what the  _ fuck _ she was doing. 

 

Stewart groans and shifts again, flinging an arm over his face and a flash of red catches her eye. A small bottle of bottom shelf vodka lays next to him on the bed and suddenly she's angry. 

 

He'd decided sitting up here and drinking alone was what he was going to do instead of coming downstairs and socializing with the people who had let him stay in their home?

 

Mannerless little bastard.

 

She takes a step forward and kicks his foot with her own, jarring him out of his drunken sleep.

 

He looks up at her with bleary, unfocused eyes before he's shooting up and scooting away from her like she's going to hit him. Maybe she should.

 

"K-Katy?" He mumbles after a beat. "Why are you..? You look cross. Has someone upset you?"

 

"Something like that." She crosses her arms and looks pointedly at the bottle beside him. Stewart doesn't so much as acknowledge the turn of her head and he pulls the sleeves of his jacket down again. Licks his dry lips. Opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off.

 

"I'm going to the dollar store, get yourself out of bed and help Wayne with chores." Her tone is sharp and he has the audacity to look annoyed with her.

 

"I'm not sure what's got you in such a foul mood this morning but I'd prefer you _not_ take it out on _me."_

 

Katy bites the inside of her cheek and spins on her heel, walking out of the room before she can tell him to fuck himself.

 

She begins to wonder if this is worth it to make Reilly and Jonesy jealous. She needs to get them here so she can actually rub it in properly.

 

Grabbing Wayne's keys she starts up the truck and heads to the store


	3. Joy of Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Katy's POV this chapter but lots of SadStewart bc that's my kink. I did not beta this so we'll die like illiterates.  
> Hight recommend listening to the song Stewart sings in this chapter it will really set the tone for the second half of chap and the next few. Also what I think his voice would sound like, tho probably an octive higher.
> 
> https://youtu.be/hJ1fgWl_HLc
> 
> Island of the Misfit Boy

After staring blankly at the spot Katy vacated only moments ago Stewart finally forces himself off of the bed. A look down at his phone and shows it had died sometime during the early morning, no doubt due to having his Spotify playing all night.

 

He digs a charger out of his bag and plugs it in before deciding to take a shower to get ready for whatever fresh Hell he's about to have to endure today. 

 

Walking into the bathroom and closing the door quietly behind him Stewart turns on the shower and steam immediately begins to fill the room. 

 

He can't remember the last time he had a  _ hot _ shower and it's nearly painful after the night spent laying on top of all the sheets and blankets, he'd been freezing the whole night.

 

After scrubbing off and washing his hair with some of Katy's fruity smelling shampoo Stewart finally decides he can't stay any longer in an effort to avoid the others. 

 

Shutting the water off and grabbing a towel, the boy wanders back into his room while drying his hair. 

 

His phone is resting on the bed, screen lit up to display a handful of notifications. 

 

Tossing the towel over the bed post and grabbing a change of clothes Stewart  quickly pulls on the loose stripped shirt and black jeans, making a point to avoid looking at himself in the large mirror that rests above the dresser. He can already tell today is going to be rough and he doesn't need any more reminders about how terrible he looks. 

 

Picking up the phone and glancing at the display he sees nothing of interest, they're all messages from apps he's either forgotten he'd downloaded or YouTube updates. 

 

Rolling his eyes, Stewart briefly glances at the date in the top corner and frowns before deleting the notifications. 

 

_ Wait a minute _ . 

 

The YouTube message flashing across the top of the screen is for a new video uploaded on Devon's account. 

 

Tapping the icon he waits as the video loads, wondering just what the hell it could be. 

 

After buffering for a few seconds it finally plays what has got to be the most  _ atrocious _ campaign video he's ever seen. 

 

It's completely  _ ludicrous _ and Stewart can't believe it's already got 400 views. 

 

It's absolutely ridiculous. 

 

And then a light bulb goes off in his head. 

 

_ This could be a good chance to get on Katy's good side, do something to help her brother.  _

 

Not that he necessarily wants anything to do with Wayne  _ but _ Katy had seemed annoyed at him earlier and this is a perfect excuse to smooth things over. 

 

_ Help Wayne win this and it will get on his good side, in turn making Katy happy.  _

 

Brain working a mile a minute, the boy jogs down the stairs to find Wayne and execute this plan.

He could even get Reilly and Jonesy in on it. Not only were they good at improv but it would give him an excuse to let them see him with Katy. 

 

Two birds with one stone. 

* * *

 

When Katy gets back from the store, she's immediately swept into the whirlwind of insanity the boys have cooked up making some stupid video to help Wayne beat McMurray for the council position. 

 

At first she has absolutely no desire to be involved with the damn thing. Reilly and Jonesy are being idiots like usual and Stewart is being extremely over the top, taking all kinds of flak from Dary and Wayne who think the entire ordeal is asinine. 

 

Eventually Wayne says to hell with all of it and wanders into town, leaving the rest of them to parade around out in the field before Katy finally comes up with an idea that all of them agree on. 

 

It ends with her in a bathing suit and covered in soapy water, all of the guys staring her down.

She thinks Stewart is going to have a stroke behind his camera, and by the time they finish filming her the two hockey players are following her around like puppies with Stewart trailing behind quietly. 

 

She tells Jonesy and Reilly to go home and they pout at her while making up excuses, asking her to come to town with them but she refuses. Tells them she has better things to do while looking pointedly at Stewart, who has his back turned to them while he fiddles with something on his camera. 

 

Both of their faces turn red but she silences them before they can complain, sending them off and watching the bright Jeep disappear down the road. 

 

And this is where the rest of her day turns completely upside down. 

 

Walking back inside she finds Stewart sitting at his laptop editing the footage he'd shot, fingers tapping away at the keys. There's a mug of something sitting next to him and she picks it up, taking a swig before he can protest and nearly chokes when it hits her tongue. 

 

"Jesus, splash of coffee with that whiskey?" She asks when her throat stops burning and she sees the boy in front of her shrug sheepishly, blue eyes roaming over her face. 

 

"Those people are quite stressful as I'm sure you know. I didn't think you would be shocked."

It's her turn to shrug as she sits beside him, arms resting on the table and fingers tapping away at her phone. "Not really shocked just wasn't expecting that. I didn't think you drank much." 

 

"I normally don't but.." He lets that sentence hang in the air and she knows what he means. 

 

"Why did you stop? Was it just because I asked you to?" Katy leans closer to him and places her phone down on the table, eyes fixed on his face and studying his expression. 

 

"Yes. I'd do anything you asked me to." He replies with a straight face and she wonders _how_ _true_ that is. _What_ else would he be willing to do for her if he'd stopped doing meth cold turkey simply because she'd _asked_ him to?

 

"What if I told you to kiss me?" 

 

The tapping of the keyboard stops and she sees him gazing wide eyed at the screen then at her. Blinks. Glances down at her lips the same way he'd done yesterday. 

 

"I would definitely do that."

 

She leans closer to him and watches as he angles his body towards hers, listens to his breathing pick up slightly. Katy brings her hand up and cups his cheek softly before sliding her hand up to tangle in his hair. 

 

The effect is instantaneous, Stewart's eyes flutter closed and he leans into her touch, a soft sigh passing between his parted lips and her fingers tighten in his hair. She sees him flinch slightly at the action and his eyes open slowly. 

 

"I'm not asking you to, I just wanted to know."

 

But she does want to kiss him. 

 

Wants to slam her mouth into his. 

 

Taste him. 

 

Feel him. 

 

Her mind is in overdrive, feelings coming and going too fast for her to even properly catalog them and she lets her hand fall from his hair. 

 

Looks away from the crushed expression on his face. 

 

Watches as he hunches in on himself just like that night at the bar, a deep frown marring his face while his brain tries to process the bullshit she'd just dealt him. 

 

He makes a quiet 'hmm' before turning away from her and taking a large swig of his drink, eyes fixed back on his laptop and she wonders if she's gone too far. 

 

The room is quiet for a while, an awkward silence stretching between them. 

 

Katy is the one who breaks it. 

"Are you mad at me? Because I was just asking you a question." 

Stewart doesn't stop his typing but she hears the temporary change in cadence before he finally responds. 

 

"I want you to stop fucking with me. What the hell is this Katy?" He closes his laptop carefully and stands up, walking to the freezer to open it and fill his cup with more liquor. She waits till he is mostly facing her before putting a sweet smile and feigning ignorance." What do you mean?"

 

Stewart fixes her with a tired glare and it looks out of place on him, he's always so alive and enthusiastic about everything that it makes her uneasy to look him in the eye. 

 

"Are we or are we not dating?" 

"We are!" She says it a little too eagerly and the long haired boy just sighs before striding over to her and leaning down to try and kiss her. She turns her head before he can even get close and the sound of discomfort he makes her shiver. 

 

"I see." He leans back up and sets his cup down next to her before turning on his heel and walking out the back door. 

 

_ Damnit.  _

 

She sits at the table with her head in her hands and feels a deep weight settle in her stomach. 

~

Stewart doesn't return for a long time and Katy tries to call him only to find his phone laying on the kitchen counter. 

 

She goes to bed and falls into an uneasy sleep, waking up at 3 in the morning when she hears something outside. 

 

Grabbing a oversized cardigan she throws it over her tank top and sleeping shorts while tiptoeing down the stairs to investigate. 

 

As she gets closer she can make out a voice talking and after listening for a few seconds she realizes it's Stewart and she relaxes. Makes her way into the laundry room and peers out the backdoor to see Stewart slumped against the stairs of the porch with Stormy laying behind him, tail wagging. 

 

He's got an acoustic guitar balanced in his lap as he lights a cigarette, the soft glow of the flame illuminating his drawn face. He blows a lungful of smoke into the air and continues his drunken rambling as he tunes the guitar. 

 

"'s not like it's fucking important right? Like, who ev'n givesashit huh?" Stormy huffs and he continues, strumming a few chords and puffing on his cigarette. "Whatever, not like this is the first time so why should I be fuckin'

surprised. They don't care, I don't care, no one  _ fucking cares." _

He holds up a container of alcohol that is alarmingly empty before taking a long pull. 

"Happy birthday to me."

 

_ Oh. Shit.  _

Yesterday had been Stewart's 21st birthday and none of them had said anything. Hell, Reilly, Jonesy and Dary had given him shit nonstop yesterday. 

 

The uncomfortable feeling in her body spreads. 

 

Stewart wedges his smoke between the strings and the fretboard before he starts begins playing. 

 

_ I love to sleep 'cause I pretend that I'm dead _

_ But I hate waking up 'cause it's hard to forget _

_ That I've lost all control of this life that I've held so dear _ .

 

It's a song from one of the tapes she'd stolen and she knows it well, but this is different. His voice has changed since then, he sounds much more confident and  _ god _ he can fucking project, hits the notes perfectly. 

 

_ Well I made a few jokes _

_ But they said they weren't funny. _

_ I tried to force a smile _

_ But they said it was ugly. _

_ I tried to make a friend. _

_ No one was a friend to me. _

 

_ Poured my heart to a girl _

_ And it went on the floor _

_ And I asked her what she wanted _

_ And he said he wanted more. _

_ I tried to find a lover _

_ All I found was an enemy. _

 

But the biggest difference is the emotion she can feel behind the words now. He's not just spouting off meaningless words, he  _ feels _ this, his voice makes  _ her feel it.  _

 

_ Well I stand in front of the mirror _

_ And look at myself _

_ And I don't make a sound _

_ But my eyes scream out "help." _

_ And I start to struggle _

_ To hold myself back _

_ From thrusting my head _

_ Straight through the fucking glass. _

 

_ And I'm tired of falling _

_ For girls that don't care _

_ And breaking my back _

_ To try to make them aware _

_ That I'm more than depressed _

_ And their time won't be wasted. _

_ But I am just a broken boy _

_ That no one wants to play with. _

 

Katy feels tears pricking at her eyes and she doesn't want this, she doesn't want to feel anything for this boy who had nothing to offer anyone. The one who had thrown so much away for a life of drugs and lies. A boy who stole, lied, cheated, gave their town a bad name, and caused nothing but trouble. 

 

_ Now I'm lost in this hole _

_ And I'm sure I am stuck _

_ And I can't run away _

_ 'cause I'm lazy as fuck. _

_ So I sit on the floor _

_ As I gather my thoughts _

_ And they're full of broken promises _

_ That only piss me off. _

 

_ Well I lost control _

_ When I was only a boy. _

_ The world taught me angst _

_ When I deserved joy. _

_ Now I'm breaking down _

_ As I struggle to breathe _

_ 'cause I won't believe in a god _

_ Who won't believe in me. _

 

Her heart twists painfully in her chest as she listens to this boy pour his feelings out to an audience of no one, and suddenly she's 15 years old again, staying up late and listening to her parents fight, laying in bed with tears painted across her face while wishing she could be anywhere else. 

 

He stops suddenly and for a second she thinks he's spotted her until she realizes he's crying quietly. 

 

Stormy whines and sits up, pressing the front of her large body against Stewart's back and starts licking his cheek. He turns his head and buries his face in her fur, a hand coming up to scratch between her ears. 

 

"Sweet girl."

 

Katy takes a deep breath, wipes her face and pulls her cardigan around herself before opening the door gently and stepping out onto the deck.

Stormy immediately pads over to her and she kneels down to pet her and kiss her nose. Glances up to see Stewart watching her with an exhausted expression. 

 

"Hey." 

"Hey" She mimics and stands, walking over to stand next to him. 

 

"Sorry if I woke you…."

 

It's so quiet she barely hears it and it makes her look down at the boy at her feet.

 

"You didn't. I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

 

"Here and there." His reply is as empty as his expression and it makes her shiver. 

 

"Are you ok?" 

Another shrug and a swig from the bottle. 

"Sure."

 

"Stewart that's not a real  answer." That makes him snort and finally look up at her. "You wouldn't know what to do with the real answer." 

 

Ugh, this cryptic shit again. 

 

She nearly jumps when he stands up, swaying a bit as he stares at her. 

She stares back. Notices that his hands are shaking. Badly. 

 

"Are you…" Her sentence trails off and he actually scowls at her before shoving his hands in his pockets. 

 

"No, I'm not  _ high.  _ But thanks for your vote of confidence."

 

"Drop the attitude, you're a junkie and I have every right to assume -" 

 

"You," he cuts her off, eyes narrowing in anger "Don't have a right to assume jackshit about me."

 

She's dimly aware that they're both getting louder by the second but can't bring herself to care. She's confused, angry, and sad.

 

"That so? Ok then what the hell is your problem?" 

 

He finally snaps at her. 

"My problem is that I am very stressed out right now and you are not  _ fucking helping." _

"Oh you want me to help you? How? By letting you sleep with me? That what's going to help you?" She takes a step forward and notes that Stewart takes a step back in turn before he makes a noise of pure exasperation and runs his fingers through his hair. 

 

"No, I want you.. to stop fucking with me. I.. Just…" He groans and she tries to remember the last time she's seen him speechless. 

 

A beat of silence passes between them before the short boy leans against the railing of the steps and sighs. 

"I'm incredibly tired and I just want to rest."

 

She feels as though his words have another meaning but she doesn't have time to ponder them as she watches the color drain from his face (not that there was much to begin with) and he wavers back and forth on his feet. 

 

" Stewart?" She asks, hoping he's not about to puke on her. Katy's concern quickly changes when she sees his eyes roll back a he falls back, landing on the ground with a soft but sickening thud. 

 

She kneels beside him seconds later and is relieved to see his eyes already fluttering open. For a few seconds he just looks lost but as his awareness comes back he winces. 

 

He's definitely going to have some bruises from that landing. 

 

She helps him sit up and tries to ignore how comfortably warm he is under her touch. 

 

"Sorry… Got dizzy."

 

"You shouldn't drink so much." She comments as she starts helping him up and he simply grunts in response. 

 

Putting his arm over her shoulder and standing straight, Katy frowns at how easy it is for her to lift him. 

She knows she's strong from a life of manual labor but she's still a tiny little thing and hauling the boy up shouldn't be this undemanding. 

 

As she drags him inside she comes to the realization that he hasn't eaten anything since he's been here, the food she'd left in the refrigerator was still untouched when she had gone to bed. 

 

"I think you and me are gonna have a talk in the morning bud." She says to him as she drops his half limp body on the couch and makes her way back to her own room. 

 

Hopefully now she could get some sleep


	4. Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katy's consciousness gets curious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is hella short but I wanted to throw it up anyway. I think I'm going to re-write chapters 2-4 because I feel like they could be much better I just need to find the time. And to anyone reading my other stories, I haven't forgotten about them! Updates will come, eventually.
> 
> Leave comments and kudos and remember to follow me on Twitter @bag_ex for updates and me being a dumb sack of shit ♥

When Katy wakes up the next morning she feels.. Off. 

Not bad. 

Not good. 

Just like she's floating somewhere between the two and it makes her slightly nervous. 

 

Getting up and going about her morning routine she idly checks her phone, likes some of the boys selfies on Instagram while she's in the bath. Comments on a few Facebook mentions as she fixes her hair. 

 

She starts brushing her teeth while tapping on the small Snapchat icon, watching it load the list of stories and she scrolls through them, not really caring about any of the names she sees. 

Until. 

She sees one that was uploaded only 6 minutes ago. By Stewart. 

 

As a rule, she's never looked at anything he's ever uploaded to snapchat, on the rare occasion he even uses it. But she can see enough of the thumbnail to tell he's got his shirt off. So against her better judgment she taps on the small circle and waits for it to load. 

 

When it finally does Katy actually drops her toothbrush in the sink, coughing on the bit of toothpaste she's probably inhaled because,  _ fuck,  _ that was not what she'd been expecting. 

 

Firstly, she'd guessed correctly, he did in fact have his shirt off, phone positioned on his lower abdomen and eyes looking away from the camera. His other arm is tucked against the arm of the couch but trailing down off camera and he's got a filter over the whole thing which makes it seem a bit retro, darkening the shadows and heighting the color contrast. His hair is mussed and falling in his eyes and his lips are parted, pink tongue just barely visible. 

But what really gets her is the caption across the photo, black banner barley hiding the sharp crest of his rib cage. 

 

_ The things we do for a bit of serotonin  _

_ #fucktoday _

_ #5+1 _

 

He... was rubbing one out downstairs on her couch. 

 

The fucking nerve. 

  
  


She tried and failed to ignore the heat that was coursing through her body at the thought. 

Wiping toothpaste from her lip an unbidden thought comes to her mind. 

_ What if he's still…? _

 

Throwing on her top Katy quietly makes her way downstairs, peering over the edge of the railing at the spot she'd deposited the boy earlier that morning only to find the couch empty. Continuing her way down the stairs she can hear a voice in the kitchen and the clicking of Gus' nails on the hardwood floor. 

 

Rounding the corner and entering the kitchen Katy sees Gus standing as close as possible to Stewart with his paws up on the counter.

Stewart doesn't notice her entrance, to busy making kissy faces at the dog beside him. 

He's shirtless, Katy notes as her eyes trail over the pale expanse of his back. He's got a few freckles and a surprising number of scars decorating the otherwise smooth skin. Light bruising is already starting to show up along his shoulder blades and lower back where he'd fallen and Katy knows by the end of the day the marks will be a painful purple and blue. 

Like always his jeans are sitting low on his hips and Katy walks closer to him, hand reaching out to rest on the soft skin just above his boxers. 

 

Stewart's head whips around and he almost yelps before he sees that it's only her. She cocks her head to the side and runs her fingers over his flat stomach, pinky nail catching playfully on the button of his jeans. Stewart drops the coffee cup he'd been holding into the sink, breath catching as Katy leans in to press her lips to his bare shoulder. 

 

His skin is warm and soft under her touch. He turns to face her, twisting his body and she lets her hand linger on the small of his back as he leans down and kisses her harshly. She bites at his lower lip when he presses too hard but apart from that she enjoys the contact. His lips are soft and he's actually a good kisser aside from his aggressive lead in. His hands come to rest on her hips, fingers digging in ever so slightly like he's afraid she might disappear. She closes her eyes and leans into him more. His mouth tastes like whiskey and he smells like her shampoo still. 

 

Pressing her body against his front, she is unsurprised to feel him getting hard. What does surprise her is the… Size of what's pressed against her pelvis. 

 

_ There's no way..  _

 

~

Katy's eyes open as she shoots up in her bed, heart racing. 

 

Had she just dreamed about fucking Stewart?! 

 

**Wayne**

When he walks inside the first thing he sees is the bottle of Gus 'N Bru on the counter. Katy no doubt having an Irish coffee again. Swiping the bottle up and looking around he sees his sister sitting at the table sipping her drink and scrolling through her phone. The skid is sitting across from her, shirtless, and shoving cereal in his mouth. Just cereal. 

 

"Fuck you think yer doin?" Wayne asks as he stands between the two of them, where Dan normally sits and eyeballs the skid, who glares at him while looking incredulous. 

 

"Care to clarify that one, shirt-trucker?" He asks around a mouthful of food and Wayne takes a slow breath through his nose. Katy just rolls her eyes and waits for the other shoe to drop. 

 

"Am I to understand that you are currently in my kitchen, eating a  _ dry  _ fucking bowl of cereal?" 

 

Stewart stares at him like he's lost his mind and slowly nods his head. "Yes…? Milk is gross." And Wayne thinks he's going to have a stroke right then and there. 

 

Thankfully Daryl and Dan walk in and he turns his attention to them. 

"Fellas, youes ever heard of eatin' cereal without the milk?"

Daryl looks offended and grabs a spoon for his yogurt. 

"I mean I think that's a sign of being a  _ cereal  _ killer, hehe." 

"Yous can'ts be cereals with that joke Dary." Dan mutters. 

"Yeah, didn't think that would be a  _ Grrreaaat _ one, my bad." 

"That had about as much charm as CherriOs." 

 

Stewart drops his half eaten bowl on the table in exasperation, "It's _7 a.m._ " 

Wayne nods as he pulls the chair out and sits in it. "Doesn't change the fact that you're eating dry ass cereal there bud." 

 

"Why do you give a shit?" 

Stewart looked at Katy with pleading eyes, as though she wasn't just as trapped by this as she was. 

 

Dan shook his head before holding up his coffee. "Makes me thirsty just watching yous."

"Katy yer the one who let this guy in the house and yer gonna let him go and do something like this, fuck, that's why he's s' goddamn skinny, no fuckin protein." 

Katy just sips her drink and looks absolutely put upon before standing. 

"Ok, so I'm glad you guys have had this very important discussion, lots of highlights and rave reviews, but  _ I  _ have something important to ask about."

 

He looks over at her and raises a blonde eyebrow. "Oh, and what could be so pressing that you feel the need to piss in our corn flakes?"

He hears Stewart groan and stand up as well, walking around Daryl to put his bowl in the sink. 

 

"Well it's good and warm out so I was thinking we could go to the lake? Relax a bit."

 

Dan 'oohs' and Dary gets all smiley before nodding his head in Katy's direction. "Now there's a good thought if I've ever heard one."

 

Katy nods happily. "Glad that's sorted. You boys grab the drinks and me and Stewart are gonna run to town real quick."

 

Stewart points to himself incredulously, "We are?" and Katy rolls her eyes before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the stairs. "Yes now get dressed! See you out there!" 


End file.
